


My sister Sansa

by Winter_is_here



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love, angsty, jon pov, unspoken feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:46:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_is_here/pseuds/Winter_is_here
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My sister Sansa" in the last moons he had said the phrase constantly, so constantly it had became a sort of motto, three reassuring words he found himself uttering more than he cared to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My sister Sansa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JonsaInTheNorth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/gifts).



"My sister Sansa" in the last moons he had said the phrase constantly, so constantly it had became a sort of motto, three reassuring words he found himself uttering more than he cared to admit. Winterfell didn't felt the same, didn't looked the same, but when he was with Sansa it all seemed worth it. His sister Sansa, beautiful highborn Sansa, the daughter of Winterfell, the winter rose, the northern princess, the Lady of Winterfell, the girl he was getting to know again, after the war and hurt and betrayal had changed her, his sister Sansa.

-Do you think they would be proud of us?- she said as a way of greeting when he had catch up to her on the godswoods. She hadn't open her eyes or moved, she had just knew it was him, and Jon felt the relief he was used to feel every time he saw her with a calm and tender expression taking over his body. Sansa, a girl with a sharp brain, a sharp tongue and a sharper spirit, a girl that had survived and had fight even when he knew all she had wanted to do back then was to give up. Sansa was the only person in the world they lived in now he felt truly comfortable with, and he couldn't help the happiness that overcame him at the knowledge that he was special for her too, the one person she could be entirely herself with.

"My sister Sansa" it was his most common response when he was asked who he was looking for, who he had been with and who he was going to. It had became quite clear to everyone at Winterfell that Sansa was his safe place and, for all their work taking back their ancestral home, they had been unable to defeat the whispers and rumors. It hadn't escaped to him the look in the servants and Lords eyes, they all looked at them and saw Ned and Catelyn Stark, they saw the ghost of brighter times long gone and a mythical story told many years ago.

-I sure hope so.- he said walking to sit beside her, taking her hand in his and letting her rest her head in the crook of his neck. As she traced invisible figures in his hand and he kissed her head he couldn't help but notice he had never this comfortable with a person, not even with Ygritte, all while he tried to fight the obvious question: What exactly did he felt for Sansa?. When he was with Sansa neither felt the need to explain their actions to the other, they didn't need to clarify anymore, and even if they didn't tell everything to the other they did share more than they were willing to with anyone else and trust implicitly.

"My sister Sansa" the phrase that had hunted his nightmares since the fateful day at the godswoods, the day when they did what they have been fighting against and let themselves feel, still silently, still without words, still forbidden. He knew, he had known his whole life that men liked his sister, a lot, a simple fact that kept on putting him in a strange position were not only the weariness of a sincere overprotective brother instinct invaded him, but a much more dangerous possessive vein that seemed to scream 'She's mine' every time a man let himself linger in Sansa's Queenly features.

As time went by and the day began to set, the pair could be seen from afar, a bright red spot and a dark one, so close the little dots almost merged in the scenery. They had been together for almost a year now, they had spent a year meeting, caring, listening, covering and holding the other, and before they realized it had became an habit, a silent commitment of doing everything in their power to protect the other. The godswood was their special spot, the one they never had when they were younger, the place where they revisited the memories of their shared childhood and lost family, the place where they could help the other out of the darkness when needed so. And so, when the day came where neither was strong enough to get out of the darker memories of the past and they both where desperately looking for a moment of comfort, when they both needed more, they kissed. It wasn't filled with passion and lust, but love and tenderness, as they both tried to fill in the little cracks and holes in the heart of the other.

"My sister Sansa" the sole family that remained to him, the constant reminder that things would never be the same, the beacon of hope that told him without words that things may not be great, but they would get better, the soothing presence that made the future a bit less dark and a whole lot more scary, solely because the notion that he may loose her made him want to leave this world too. His sister Sansa, the one with the horrible monsters in her head, the one that saw their father unjustly die before her eyes, the one that had been hit, abused and bargained, the one that had gone through hell and back delivered by the people she once trusted. His sister Sansa, the girl that had gone from innocent child to distrustful woman in the course of 3 years... his sister, the one person he shouldn't love the way he did, yet couldn't help but do.

-Would you stay tonight?.- she had asked him when they finally reached her chambers, after a kiss that should not have happened, yet neither regretted. Managing Winterfell seemed to cheer her up, handling the house affairs and giving him counsel, but he could still see the shadows of her monsters looming over her bright blue eyes; that is why, when her eyes brightly shined with the kind of mirth, hope and illusions he hadn't seen since she first looked at him, back in Castle Black, he say 'Yes'. They don't kiss again, they just hold each other really thigh and let themselves fall into the peaceful sleep that has been avoiding them for far to long.

"My sister Sansa" except she wasn't his sister at all, she was not his sister and she had never been his sister; for when Bran finally came back, Jon was ripped of the last shreds of the identity he once had, he was ripped of the last remainders of himself, of who he had been. Everything had been a lie, his life was just lies and vows, vows that remained and vows that had been broken, his own journey, his own war and hurt and betrayal... His resurrection, they all seem like weird stories about the life of somebody he once knew. Yet he couldn't bring himself to hate the truth: Was he hurt by the secrets that had been kept? Definitely, but the truth about his parentage also brought peace to his relationship with Sansa, a relationship of unspoken love and quiet longing, of lingering looks and small touches. His life had began again in Sansa's arms and he had every intention of it ending in the same fashion. So, when he decides to visit his real mother grave he asks Sansa to come with him to the crypts of Winterfell. And it is there, before their deceased parents graves, where they finally voice their love.

**Author's Note:**

> So here I go again... I was actually trying to write something entirely different, but this is what I ended up with.
> 
> A late happy birthday gift to @jonsa-in-the-north.


End file.
